


Cold Metamorphosis

by NebulousMistress



Series: The Shadow Over Atlantis [2]
Category: Cthulhu Mythos - Fandom, Cthulhu Mythos - H. P. Lovecraft, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Episode: s02e14 Grace Under Pressure, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-08 14:00:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/762133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NebulousMistress/pseuds/NebulousMistress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is nothing more embarrassing for someone like him than death by drowning. Set during/after 'Grace Under Pressure'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Grace Underwater

**Author's Note:**

> Some banter lifted from the episode courtesy of the Gateworld.net transcript. Some is paraphrased. Some is added.

Deep underwater the dying puddlejumper settled on the bottom of the ocean with a crunch of rock and a groan of tortured metal. Its cockpit imploded long time past, the crushed body of a human pilot still floated within. Silt and sand rose disturbed by the fall of such a large object, attracting the attention of tiny deep water scavengers used to the giant carcasses of the great singing fish-whales.

Noises echoed from within the thing, the big stone-hard thing. Something inside it was alive. 

*****

It was cold. Bone-chillingly cold. Yet despite the cold Rodney had to force himself to ignore how _good_ it felt, water lapping gently at his skin, washing away the stench of a human body, replacing it with the clean smell of living fish. He found himself immersed in the rising waters to his neck before coming back to his senses and standing up.

It was only knee-deep. He had time, the water was only knee-deep.

"It must be terrible for you," Sam remarked.

"What, dying out here alone with only an uppity hallucination for company?" Rodney demanded.

"Not just that. All these years, all this time you've suppressed your Change, and here you are in the one situation where it would have saved you."

Rodney stared at his hallucination in incredulous horror. "How _dare_ you bring that up?" he demanded. 

"Some part of you obviously agrees with me or I wouldn't have," Sam pointed out.

"The suicidal part of me maybe," Rodney growled.

"Don't you want it, though?" she asked in a small voice. "A lifespan so long it might as well be forever, the chance to chase science and her discoveries to the ultimate understanding of the multiverse, it's like ascension handed to you on a silver platter by the genetic lottery."

"I have spent my entire _life_ pretending to be normal, pretending to fit in," he snarled. "Do you honestly think I want this?! As far as I know the military still has a 'shoot on sight' order for escapees from the Innsmouth raids and as a direct result of those raids I think I fall under that order! I've suppressed my Change because if I don't I die!"

"You know that if you suppress it too long it'll never take place."

Rodney slumped down onto a sodden bench. "Of course I know that," he whispered. "I can't undergo the Change until after I leave the Stargate program. But don't you see? I can't leave. I don't want to leave, ever. But I don't want to die. The best I can do is suppress it until it goes away and just stay here among the stars."

Sam sat next to him, leaning into him to offer some sort of comfort. She grew hopeful when he leaned back onto her. "There's always the possibility that you're underestimating your friends again," she said. "They might surprise you."

"Then again they might not," Rodney said sullenly. He realized then that if he was going to escape this then he'd have to do it himself. "Please, just leave me alone while I work on getting myself out of this."

*****

"It's ready!" Rodney crowed. Despite distractions and headache and anger he'd done it. The programming looked flawless if blurred, he was sure there was enough power, he could get out of this sunken deathtrap.

"It's a mistake," Sam urged.

"I trust you'll be gone by the time I reach the surface?" Rodney asked, smug triumph radiating from him. He pushed the button and gave himself over to mad delight as the lights came on and the engines powered up.

And then it all died. Delight shattered, leaving only madness in its wake. "Don't," he pleaded. "Just... don't."

"How much power did you waste?" Sam asked.

"A half hour."

"That's not too bad," she said, trying to soothe bruised ego.

"No, I mean a half hour's all that's left," Rodney whimpered. "And then I'm going to die."

Sam gave him a pitying look.

"Don't. The last thing I need right now is an 'I told you so.' Just... let me be..." Rodney murmured before giving one long exhale and sticking his head underwater. One last petty stab of spite at the worlds, for someone like him to die of drowning. It was a mark of shame, of simple humanity, for someone so capable of swimming, for someone who was expected to have gills long before age 40, to die of drowning. 

He inhaled.

Instinct had one long laugh at his expense as it refused to allow his lungs to expand. Instead Rodney sucked water into his mouth and tried to push it past gill fans with his tongue. It resulted in a big gulp of saltwater into his belly before he came up for a real breath.

"I can't even drown properly," he murmured. He gave a long salty belch that ended in a sob. "I'm not even human enough to drown."

Sam knelt down in the rising waters and put a comforting hand on Rodney's shoulder.

"Why are you still here?" Rodney murmured. "You say you manifested out of my mind as the one person smarter than me. Fine. I'm in a busted jumper at the bottom of the ocean. I have no engines, no power, life support is failing, and the compartment is filling with seawater. I can't stay here. I have no gills, no scales, no way of surviving the pressure or the water chill, and worst of all no excuse. I can't leave. I have no way of flying this junk heap and despite your optimism I'm not naïve enough to believe that the others are even looking for me, much less likely to find me."

"The way I see it you have two possible options for escape," Sam said. "And only one of them involves being rescued."

Rodney snorted. "Fine. What's your plan?"

"First you need to increase the pressure in this space again," Sam pointed out. "Ignore the safeties, they're programmed to deal with more human physiologies, you can handle more pressure than the jumper is used to dealing with. It'll slow the seep of water inside if the ocean outside has something to push against."

Rodney got up and wordlessly prodded life support into slowly increasing the pressure inside the jumper. He ignored the flashing red flags on his tablet as they tried to remind him that humans didn't do well over six atmospheres.

"Got tired of arguing with yourself?" Sam asked.

Rodney held his nose and popped his ears as the air pressure increased. "I'm not going to dignify that with an answer," he said.

"You just did."

"No I didn't. So what's next in your not-waiting-around-to-die plan?"

Sam braced herself. "Now you stop holding back and grow gills," she said.

The look Rodney gave her was pure murder. "What?"

"You have to have realized that part of the Deep One's Change can be accelerated or suppressed mentally," Sam explained. "How else would you explain your almost complete lack of progress while in the Stargate program?"

Rodney held up his hands, fingers spread. "I took a _knife_ to my own hands and cut out the webbing so I'd look human," he growled. "Since when is that a 'complete lack of progress'? Hmm?"

"You did that in college. You cut the webbing from your hands over a decade ago and since then you've had almost no progress. Ten years and all you have to show for it is a slight change of facial structure and some scales down your spine. You don't even have nictitating membranes!"

"Seriously? I have scales on my back?" Rodney reached down his shirt collar in the back and tried to feel for the rough slide of skin over scales. "Help me get them off."

"See? That's why you're going to die out here, you can't even accept a few little scales much less a set of gills."

"You wouldn't be able to either," he exclaimed, pulling his hand out of his shirt to gesture. "You're me, you remember Dad at his funeral. He was halfway Changed when he shot himself, didn't even look human anymore. He was an ugly, disgusting monster when he finally gave up trying to pretend."

"He was only disgusting because he took the coward's way out," Sam said. "He couldn't face the enormity of what he was being given and rejected it in the only way he knew how. Much like you tried to do by drowning yourself."

"Yeah well at least I admit I'm a coward," Rodney snarled. 

"Are you so sure he was ugly?" she asked. Sam's clothes vanished as she began to change, quickly morphing into a scaly, anthropoid sea creature. Large eyes stared behind nictitating membranes, gill fans fluttered underneath bony gill plates, a short dorsal fin raised and lowered slightly with each open-mouthed breath. She raised a webbed hand to examine black claws and shining scales, slid that hand down smooth, pale-white breasts and taut belly. "Am I so ugly?" she asked, her voice still purely Sam Carter.

Rodney found himself reaching for her, didn't realize it until his hands were grasping the soft frog-like satin skin of her breasts. He slid his hands down her sides, feeling the rasp of chitin where scales began between smooth front and scaly back. He gazed in wonder at the slide of muscle under skin, followed the silver and green patterns of her scales as they faded to pale in front and darkened to deep blue-green in back. Hands and eyes wandered up to the fish-like head and Sam's unmistakably expressive eyes. He traced the bony plates covering her gills, the wide scales of her snout, her thin lips, her long tongue. "You're beautiful," he found himself whispering. "I-I mean, I've never seen another Deep One before, not up close. I had no idea..."

"And why would you be any different?" Sam whispered. "You're not your father, Rodney. His self-hatred made him ugly, made him a monster. But this is as much a beautiful thing as it is anything else. All you have to do is accept it, let it happen."

"I can't," he whispered.

"Yes you can."

"We don't have time for it."

Sam smiled as she turned back into a human hallucination. "You're wrong," she said. "If you divert power away from heating this volume of water it'll equalize with the temperature outside same as it'll equalize with the pressure. It'll buy you more time with an air bubble in here; you'll have more power set aside for equalizing the pressure at a more comfortable speed."

"And how many months do you expect me to sit at the bottom of the ocean talking to a figment of my imagination?"

"Don't insult yourself, Rodney. You know there's a pretty big mental component involved here. It's why you haven't hit the Change yet, the only reason why. Remember Colonel Sheppard and his foray into bug-dom? Drugs suppressing his Change coupled with his mental refusal to let it happen and he still transformed within a few short days. The differences here are that you're not taking mutation suppressants, it's no mere mutation but rather expression of genes the way they should be, and starting a few minutes ago you're not mentally screaming at yourself not to let it happen."

"I'm-I'm not?"

"No you're not," Sam said. "You're beginning to accept it."

"How do you know?" Rodney asked miserably.

"Because there's no other reason for us to be pressing ourselves as deep as we can into frigid waters while still being able to talk just for the feeling of being submerged," Sam pointed out with an obscenely sexy purr. "Especially in water that's only thigh deep."

Rodney sighed and leaned back, sliding completely under. He ran his hands through his hair and came back up, not entirely comfortable with the amount of hair that had fallen out and stuck to his hands. He hadn't been losing his hair that fast before...

"You're right," Rodney said, leaning back again to try and submerge every inch of skin that he could and still be able to speak. "It is happening faster." Webbed hands slid around him from behind as his hallucination of Sam as a Deep One held him close and purred lovingly in his ear. "I do want this."

"I know you do," she said.

He yawned, ears popping. "Tired," he murmured.

"The Change is a strain on your body," Sam whispered. "Coupled with your concussion and the stresses of the day you're pretty run down. Sleep, I'll keep watch."

"That's a terrible idea," Rodney slurred. He let Sam maneuver him around so he was curled up in her arms, head pillowed on her chest. He could hear, feel her heart beat right under his ear and it merged with her purr to lull him under. "Gonna blame you if I drown," he mumbled.

"I know," Sam whispered. "Sleep." The hallucination disappeared as Rodney passed out curled up against the wall of the jumper, his ear pressed to the wall. Just beyond he could hear the soothing song of a Lantean whale.

*****

Rodney regained consciousness in a jumper almost fully flooded. He opened his eyes to blurry vision and closed them again with a raspy groan. 

"Stay with me, McKay," Sam coaxed.

"My throat is on fire," he whined. He felt icy hands, human hands on his neck. They gently rubbed and searched before pulling back. He still couldn't see clearly and reached up to rub his eyes.

"Don't," Sam whispered. "Just open your eyes. All the way."

Rodney opened his eyes and opened them again. He could see the slide of nictitating membranes as the pulling back of blurry to show him the relatively clear vision of a very flooded jumper. He blinked in wonder a few times before a sluggish smile spread on his face. "I have nictitating membranes," he whispered.

"That's not all," Sam said. She grasped his hands and drew them up to his neck. 

Beneath the skin he could feel faint ridges from the base of his skull to the underside of his jaw. Rodney gave a tiny laugh. "I have gills," he wondered.

"Not yet," she admitted. "That feels like the bony anchors where gill filaments attach to."

"So I don't have gills," he lamented.

"No."

"So I can't swim out of here."

"You knew it wouldn't work anyway," she pointed out. "A half hour isn't enough time."

"How much power do we have left?" Rodney grasped for the tablet, all of his movements in slow motion. He gazed at it, blinking hard to keep his eyes clear. "Nothing."

"You're gonna get out of this."

"I don't think I would believe that even if you were naked," Rodney said, closing his eyes. He never had seen Sam naked as a human and he found he wanted to, badly. Sam as a Deep One was hot but Sam as a human was much more real. He cracked an eye open hopefully, nictitating membrane only sliding halfway open. She looked bashful yet fully clothed. Damn. "Oh well."

"Stick with me, Rodney. You've gotta stay alert this time."

"I knew my plan wasn't going to work."

"Twenty-twenty hindsight, huh?"

"You were right but it's not like your plan worked either," Rodney pointed out. "Still no gills. Would come in handy though. Want to know how that feels..."

"I envy you that."

"And I envy you your humanity. You don't have to worry about what you're going to be tomorrow."

"I suppose that's true," Sam admitted. "We each want what the other has."

"I wish I had your wisdom," Rodney mumbled. "Intelligence-wise I'm smarter. On your best days maybe we're, like, a tie. But my intelligence aside, you're wiser. I guess at the end of the day that's, that's why you were down here."

Through the lullaby of whale song came a crackling sound. "Jumper Six, this is Sheppard, come in."

"What the hell was that?" Rodney slurred.

"Help," Sam said.

"McKay, Griffin, do you copy?"

"Sheppard!" McKay called, turning his radio on.

"Hey, buddy! What say you lower your door?"

"That's-that's probably a bad idea."

"Listen. Long story short, we've converted the cloak into a shield and extended it around your jumper. I'm standing outside right now." Sheppard's words were punctuated with several bangs on the outer door.

"What?!"

"All you have to do is open your door and walk to my jumper."

"I told you they'd come up with something," Sam said.

Rodney paddled over to the release mechanism but couldn't pull it. "What if it's not Sheppard?" he asked. "What if it's another one of my hallucinations? What if it's-it's the pessimist in me just wants it all over with?"

"You heard the shield come on," Sam pointed out.

"Yeah but I hear you," Rodney countered.

"McKay? What's the hold-up? We need to do this sooner rather than later. This shield ain't gonna hold forever."

"You're minutes away from hypothermia," Sam warned.

"I can't tell what's real and what's not!" Rodney shouted. "Part of me keeps wanting to make the Change, part of me would still rather die than go through it and that's very possibly making me think that Sheppard is out there just so I'll open the door and drown except we already know **it won't _work!_** "

"Rodney, they're here," Sam coaxed. "They did it. Let them help you."

"Okay." Rodney got his shaking hands wrapped around the release. "Better stand back, we've taken on a lot of water." He pulled the release.

Nothing happened. "No," he whispered.

"Secondary release," Sam urged.

Rodney nodded and exhaled to purge his lungs, an instinct he knew he hadn't had an hour ago. His vision was clear behind nictitating membranes, clearer than he'd even seen on land. He fumbled around underwater, forcing himself to not try and swallow water past gills that weren't there yet. He tugged a panel open and pulled the lever inside, had to exhale more, much more as he was suddenly thrust into a much lower pressure.

Oh how it hurt. Rodney screwed his eyes shut as his ears rang painfully then popped. Every joint suddenly ached, his chest hurt so much even as he kept exhaling.

He felt footsteps, heard a voice through the distant ringing of his damaged ears. Voices. John. Radek. Voices asking if he was okay, voices asking about the other guy, Griffin. Voices picking him up and half-dragging him through knee-deep ocean floor silt to another jumper. He mumbled something about needing to decompress, about Carter telling him to increase the pressure.

"Carter?" Zelenka asked.

"I mean I did, I did," Rodney mumbled. "I told myself. Oh, my head..."

"Almost thought we'd lost you," Sheppard said.

Rodney looked up, eyes covered by membranes to see the whale swim overhead, singing. He fancied he could almost understand its song. Sheppard and Zelenka set Rodney down in the jumper, not noticing as he stood up and watched Sam wave him off.


	2. Pressure and Time

The puddlejumper ascended through the depths, faint blips of bioluminescence drifting past the front window as they climbed.

Rodney groaned. Every joint he had felt like it was on fire. He complained as such to his rescuers.

"The bends?" Zelenka proposed from his workstation. "Beckett gave us oxygen tanks for use in case of decompression sickness."

"Right," Sheppard said. He set the ship's autopilot up to ascend and went in back to get out the tanks. "Rodney, stay with us," he coaxed.

Rodney sat slumped and shaking, gazing through blurry eyes at the human before him. He made a tiny murr sound. "Hurts," he whispered.

"I know it hurts," John soothed, brought the oxygen mask to Rodney's face and looked in his eyes. And paused.

Rodney seated the mask to his face, buckled the strap behind his head to hold it on. "Whassit?" he slurred.

"There's something wrong with your eyes," John said slowly.

Rodney shrugged before slumping back. His head jerked, throwing him back into full consciousness and a great deal of moaning.

"We're above three hundred meters," Radek said from his workstation. "I am lowering shield. You need radio Atlantis."

Sheppard nodded and made his way slowly to the control console, keeping an eye on Rodney the whole time. He took the ship off of autopilot and activated the radio transmitter. "Atlantis, this is Jumper Six," he called.

"We have power to reach surface," Radek murmured. "I will watch him."

"Jumper Six, this is Atlantis," came Weir's response. "Did you find them?"

"We only have one," Sheppard admitted. "Griffin didn't make it."

"I understand. How's Rodney?"

"We have him on oxygen but it sounds like he's got the bends pretty bad," Sheppard admitted. "He has a nasty gash on his forehead and I think he's been hallucinating. Also, there's something wrong with his eyes."

Beckett came on the line this time. "What d'ye mean?" he asked. "Sluggish pupils? Burst capillaries?"

"They look like they've got a film over them," John said, glancing back at the two scientists. "They're pale under this thick film."

"That's probably nothing too serious," Beckett said with an odd tone, almost anticipatory. "I'll have a decompression chamber ready for when ye get in."

"Gotcha," John said.

Radek kept glancing periodically at his workstation to make sure they had enough power to reach the surface but most of his attention was kept on Rodney. He replaced the bandage on Rodney's head wound, reseated the oxygen, and tried to get him out of sopping wet clothes.

"Dun wanna," Rodney slurred, trying to keep his clothes on.

"Come, McKay, you need out of wet clothes into dry clothes," Radek coaxed.

"Dun care." Rodney gave Radek a look, nictitating membranes sliding halfway open. "Hurts ta move. Not cold anymore."

Radek froze, a chill falling down his spine. He'd seen eyes like that before...

Sheppard reset the autopilot. "Need any help there, Doc?" he asked, coming back to help.

"No," Radek said distantly. "Is fine here. Just fly ship."

"Zelenka?"

"I said fly ship!" Radek snapped, glaring at Sheppard with wild eyes. "Autopilot is not perfect and we need get Rodney to decompression chamber before air bubbles in blood kill him! Stop bothering and fly ship."

"Okay, okay, geez," Sheppard said, undoing the autopilot and coaxing a little more speed for the jumper's ascent.

Radek gave Sheppard one final glare for good measure before leaning in very close to Rodney's ear. "He will not find out," he whispered. "I promise you, Deep One, your secret is safe."

Rodney looked at Radek in shock before his eyes rolled back and shut.

*****

He awoke naked in a coffin. Rodney screwed his eyes shut then opened them again. He was in a small metal cylinder with tiny glass windows, naked. He slammed his hands against the sides of the chamber, panic setting in.

"Rodney, lad, I need ye to calm down," said a familiar voice directly to his ear.

Rodney lifted a hand to his ear, found his earpiece. He tapped it on. "Beckett? Where am I?!"

"Easy, Rodney, ye had the bends pretty bad." Beckett's face appeared in the tiny window near Rodney's head. "Yer in a decompression chamber we rigged up."

"Decompression chamber?"

"Aye, lad," Beckett said, trying to soothe the panic. "Yer safe back on Atlantis. Just calm down and take deep breaths and ye'll be fine."

Rodney willed himself to stop panicking. It wasn't working. "Wide open fields, wide open fields," he mumbled to himself. "No, no, not working. Wide open ocean, wide open ocean, water forever... forever..." He forced himself to relax into cold artificial softness.

"Ye okay in there?" Beckett asked.

"No," Rodney admitted.

"Is there anythin' I can do for ye?"

"Is-is there a way to get some water in here?" The question was posed fast and jumbled as Rodney tried to get it out before chickening out.

"Are ye daft?"

"You of all people should understand why, Carson," Rodney pleaded, this time much slower. He blinked slowly at the Carson staring at him through the tiny window, letting the doctor see for the first time third eyelids slide over eyes still so human. "A lot happened while I was trapped down there. I-I think I want it to keep happening."

"Rodney..." Carson breathed. "O' course I'll get the chamber flooded for ye. Sit tight, it won't take long."

"Not too deep," Rodney whispered. "I still don't have gills."

"Right."

Rodney laid back and waited, concentrated on breathing deeply. In. Out. In. Out. His body no longer ached; in fact he felt pretty good save for the faint throbbing in his head, the whole body itch, and the overheated feeling in his neck. He idly wondered how many atmospheres of pressure he was under. He knew he'd only managed to get the jumper up to 12 atmospheres, maybe a bit more. So possibly six? Eight? A human being went mad at what, six atmospheres of normal air? Did he even count anymore?

He found himself leaning back and sighing as warm seawater flooded from under him, lapping at his legs, spine, neck. "Oh that feels good," he moaned.

"Glad ye like it," Carson said, face returning to the tiny window. "Just try ta keep yer ears clear of the water, ye may have damaged an eardrum. If anybody asks the water is to get ye warmed up."

The water level rose to just below his ears if he kept his head propped up on the flattened excuse for a pillow. Rodney reached down to repeatedly scoop water up over his belly, reveling in the feeling of water sliding along his bare skin. "Carson, thank you," he said quietly.

Carson smiled. "Yer welcome."

*****

"Carson, he's been in there eleven hours," Weir pleaded. "Let him out, you know he's claustrophobic."

"I'm not letting him out till I know he's safe," Carson said firmly. "He decompressed from 12 atmospheres to one in less than a second, it could have easily caused permanent damage. No, lass, I'm nae lettin' 'im out."

"You are a cruel man, Dr. Beckett," Sheppard said, horrified. He was staring in one of the tiny windows of the decompression chamber to see it half flooded with water. "After what he just went through you'd do this to him?"

Weir nudged the men aside to stare through the glass as well. Her blood ran cold at what she saw. "Beckett, I order you to get him out of there this instant," she said, her calm tone covering the horrified disgust at what she saw Rodney being put through.

"That may not be good idea," Radek allowed in a quiet voice. He cringed at the venomous glares leveled at him by Sheppard and Weir.

Rodney awoke to the sounds of arguing outside, water sloshing around him as he jerked into consciousness. "Sam?" he asked. Sam didn't answer and Rodney blinked his eyes fully open. "Carson?" he called, louder this time.

Carson thanked whatever gods were listening that Rodney woke up then. "Rodney, what's the fourth root of 65,536?"

"Sixteen."

Radek counted off a few ticks on his fingers, muttering. "Is correct," he verified.

"Rodney, what is your name?" Carson asked, using a particular accent.

Inside the chamber Rodney took a few seconds to place the tone and accent. "Dr. Rodney McKay."

"What is your quest?"

"I seek the holy grail," Rodney answered, amusement creeping into his voice.

"What is the air speed velocity of an unladen swallow?"

"African or European?"

"He's fine," Carson said, deadpanned. "I am not pulling him out of there early and I am not draining the water from the chamber."

"Rodney, are you okay?" Weir asked.

"I'm fine," Rodney assured.

"It's still cruel," Sheppard insisted. "He just got out of a small space full of water and you throw him right back into one. At least drain the thing."

"I won't," Carson said. He looked around him, at Weir's pale face slackened by horror, at Sheppard's expressionless mask broken as he pleaded for his friend's life, at Radek strangely calm, calculating, even supportive.

"The water was my idea," Rodney admitted. "I was neck-deep in four centigrade water for half an hour which is enough to kill a lesser man. Immersion in warm water has always been a treatment for extreme hypothermia."

"You couldn't just use dry heat?" Weir asked shakily.

"Even I know warming by dry heat is bad idea," Radek said. "By the time body core is warm the extremities are medium rare which is good for roast but not good for person."

"That was a terrible mental image," Rodney complained.

"It got point across," Radek defended.

"Yes it did," Sheppard admitted, turning as pale as Weir. "How long until you can let him out?"

"Depends," Carson said. "Rodney, how exactly are ye?"

Rodney did a generic check by trying to move everything. "Joint pain's essentially gone," he said. "My head's no longer going to explode. Spots are gone, I can wiggle everything, it's a vast improvement."

"Okay, lad, I'm going to start letting off the pressure again." He tapped out a few commands. "He's been at two atmospheres of pressure for the past hour," he explained. "I'm decreasing the pressure in the chamber such tha' in another twenty minutes we'll be at ambient pressure but Rodney'll still have ta be weaned off of the pure oxygen. Tha'll take a good hour. He'll be in there awhile."

"Rodney, are you sure you're okay with this?" Weir asked.

"I'd be better if I didn't have idiots around me screaming about how tortured I must be in my own personal hot tub," Rodney snapped. "I just had to watch a man sacrifice himself to save my life then almost squander that sacrifice by nearly freezing to death in a water-filled deathtrap at the bottom of the ocean! I deserve some peace and quiet away from hallucinations and morons and frankly I like being warm. Go away."

"Good to hear you're feeling better, McKay," Sheppard said. If Rodney was able to chew them out for worrying about him then he'd be fine. "Lemme know when he gets out, Doc." John left the infirmary to find Ronon and Teyla and inform them that Rodney would be okay.

"I will stay, if you don't mind," Radek said.

"Very well," Weir said, still not happy with the arrangement. She felt there was something very wrong with this but couldn't place exactly what it was. Maybe it was nothing. "Keep me informed," she murmured to Radek.

"I will," Radek said.

Weir gave one final look around. Carson watched her with something like hurt in his eyes. She kept her expression neutral and left.

Carson watched Radek out of the corner of his eye as he went around acting busy. He gave up the furtive glancing when Radek moved up to the decompression chamber and watched Rodney through the glass. Carson found himself watching Radek as intently and as blatantly as Radek watched Rodney.

Carson gave up work and came over to stand behind Radek. "Can I help ye, lad?" he asked.

"He doesn't have to worry from me," Radek whispered. "I can tell that you know. So I can tell you I know. But I would never tell anyone else."

A wave of fear washed over Carson. "How do ye know?" he asked, glancing around to make sure no one was within earshot. He pulled off his radio and silently begged the city not to record the next few minutes. It was a familiar command easily followed when Rodney was the subject of discussion.

Radek removed his own radio. "I recognized his third eyelid," he admitted.

"This is probably a conversation we should have later, when Rodney can hear us," Carson said. "But I need to know if anyone else saw."

"Colonel Sheppard did. Is what he meant when he told you something was wrong with Rodney's eyes."

"Bollocks."

They were interrupted by a thump thump from within the chamber. Rodney scowled at both of them and motioned to his radio. When they both wore theirs again he spoke. "So Radek knows?" he asked.

"Yes, Rodney, I know."

"Does anyone else?"

"We were discussing."

"Who else?" Rodney demanded.

"Sheppard might," Carson said. "He saw yer eyes."

"Dammit."

"Rodney?"

"Go away, I need to think."

Radek nodded and sat back, just outside of Rodney's line of sight. Carson sighed and went back to watching the pressure for any problems. Rodney took his radio off and curled up in the chamber. He wanted so much to be back underwater, to never surface again.

*****

The air-tight seal didn't hiss when it was cracked. There was a slight slosh as Rodney moved away from the source of air, tried to stay with the water just a little longer. He didn't want to leave. He didn't want to face the possibility that people knew about him.

"C'mon, Rodney, time's up," Carson coaxed.

“I don't want out there, there are people and it's dry and there's water in here."

Carson gave Radek a pleading look. Radek tapped a few commands on the console of the decompression chamber and the water was sucked out.

An indignant shriek echoed from the chamber and Rodney dragged himself out, swearing. "You sheep fucking, innards-eating bastard." He fell to the floor with an unnerving splat yet he couldn't seem to really get up. He pulled his knees under himself and sat up. "I blame you for this," he mumbled.

"Any particular 'you' or just not you?" Radek asked, grabbing a ready towel and draping it over Rodney.

"No, don't do tha'," Rodney pleaded softly, letting himself fall limp. He didn't resist when Carson slipped the oxygen mask over his face or when the two men pulled him up and helped him sit on an exam table. He sighed and accepted it as the towel rubbed everywhere, drying him off.

It was like the application of a skin, a human skin. A human disguise he would wear until next he was able to submerge himself with intent. Never before had it made him feel dirty, though. Never before had he wanted to stay underwater.

"Are ye okay there?" Carson asked, noticing Rodney's silence. The temptation made Carson ache, made his hands ever so slightly shake. He ghosted his hands over Rodney, over new patches of thickening silvery skin, up his neck where he could feel the heat radiating from new cell growth. "Yer facial structure's changed a bit," he commented before giving into temptation and sliding his hands down offered neck to trace bony gill struts.

"They're not gills yet," Rodney admitted. "Just the struts where the gill fans will attach."

"They're beautiful," Carson whispered.

"They're not visible are they? Please tell me you can't see them just looking at me."

"Are not visible," Radek confirmed. "I never noticed."

Rodney breathed a sigh of relief. So long as people weren't going to notice...


	3. Unintentions

A dark crystalline bottle sat in the desk drawer, fingerprints smudged in the dust of years on its surface. Pale yellow liquid sloshed within despite the lack of movement of the bottle itself. That changed when Carson Beckett plucked the bottle from its locked drawer and poured two small shots of the ever-moving liquid. He kept one for himself and passed the second over to his companion, Radek Zelenka.

"What is this?" Radek asked. The unceasing movement of the contents unnerved him.

"'Space mead', I think," Carson said. "I'm nae sure if tha's what it's really called, the man I bought it from on earth spoke with a bi' of a hum to his voice."

Radek watched the liquid as it refused to quiet down, as the laws of fluid dynamics were broken right in front of his eyes by the contents of a shot glass.

"It's no' bad," Carson assured. "A bi' of a kick to it, I admit. I was savin' it fer a specific occasion an' I think this qualifies." He recorked the bottle and locked it back up before reaching for his own shot. "Ye gotta sip it though or it'll put ye right ou'."

Radek braved the squirming liquid and tried to ignore the feeling that it was trying to get away from him. A small sip and his tongue exploded with sweetness. His vision blurred and shuddered for a second before resolidifying with a slight blurring buzz around everything. "Wow," he murmured. "Is like sweet absinthe but stronger."

"Aye," Carson agreed with emphasis before sipping his own shot.

Thoughts flew fuzzily around Radek's head as he stared at the glass and the pretty patterns within. "'Specific occasion,'" he mused. "You mean someone finding out about Rodney?"

"Somethin' like tha'."

"Is not entirely surprising. Rodney has what Soviet Army called the 'Baltic suggestion'."

"Wha' do ye mean?"

"Not really anything concrete," Radek admitted. "Is a hint in the eyes, is his particular brand of genius, is his habit of not speaking and still expecting us to know his thoughts."

Carson shrugged. "I guess tha' works," he said. "I remember 'is eye colour from when I were a wee lad, me grandparents called it the 'Shellbourne eye'."

"You ever meet anyone with Shellbourne eye?"

"No. Me grandda used to know one though. Friend of 'is growin' up. Disappeared in the Great War. 'E always said the Shellbourne eye gave 'im the creeps after."

Radek tipped his shot glass slightly and watched as the space mead within overcompensated by trying to crawl up the other side. "Is like a living thing," he murmured before taking a sip.

"Hmm?"

"Space mead. Is alive?"

"Nah, it's nae alive," Carson assured. "At leas' I don' think so. Wha'bout ye? Ye ever know anyone with the Baltic suggestion?"

Radek snorted. "More than that. Like all good comrades I did my tour in Soviet Army. Was nineteen years old when Commander noticed I could fix electronics. Never any training, just talent and instinct. That talent got me shunted from enlisted soldier to secret super-science."

Carson was about to take another sip when the word 'super-science' was mentioned. He paused, his glass held a few inches from his lips. One slow blink at Radek and the engineer hadn't continued nor had he made any indication of being kidding. He slowly set his glass down and left it alone on the table. "Repeat tha'?" he asked solemnly.

"Super-science."

"Okay I did hear right then."

"Is not big deal," Radek snorted. "American super-science focused on stargate program and Area 51, yes? Soviet super-science focused on how to use rhododendrons for radio-less communication with cosmonaut. Is not involving Elder Gods or world-ending weapons, is involving plants."

Carson continued his cautious staring.

"Fine, I am not convincing you."

"So... what did ye work on?" Carson asked in a small voice.

"Electronic components for new type of target-charge nuclear torpedo," Radek admitted. "Soviet Army had captured 'expert in ocean science' at secret naval base on Black Sea. She did not work with people long, tended to kill them when they insulted her. As expendable soldier I was her next assigned partner."

"She, ah, had the Baltic suggestion?"

"She was Deep One."

Carson's jaw dropped.

"So I have dealt with Deep Ones before," Radek said, intending that to be the end of his exposé. He punctuated the finality of his statement by finishing off his shot of space mead and thunking his glass on Carson's desk. He blinked at the blur and tried to ignore the curious feeling of his insides moving in the same impossible slosh as the liquid itself.

"What was she like?" Carson asked softly.

"Beautiful," Radek sighed. "What?"

"Yer Deep One, what was she like?"

Radek sat back, eyes fluttering closed as he remembered. The memories came clearer, sharper than he had ever known. He idly wondered if it was the strange drink doing this or if the knowledge of Rodney's secret was responsible, maybe both. "She was much like Rodney," he said. "Genius, refused to suffer fools, considered everyone around her inferior. Her sense of humour was questionable to nonexist, she was terrible at reading people, she hated her captivity, and yet for some reason she and I got along well. She always threaten to eat my head if I annoy her yet she never do. If she eat my head, who would she rant to, who would she play chess with, who would she talk to about the underwater empires?"

"What happened to her?"

Radek shrugged. "Iron curtain fell," he said, tone neutral. "They were going to leave her in compound to die alone. I couldn't let them. During chaos of leaving facility I let her out. I think she got away but I was never sure if..."

"I'm so sorry," Carson whispered.

"I still do not know if I loved her. I became a man with her, will always miss her purr, but love?"

Carson was about to finish his shot when Radek's words made it through his brain's fuzz. His eyes widened and he made the decision to down the rest of his mead. The room spun for a second, an eon, before everything took on an aura of weird color. "I'm sure she got out okay," he murmured before setting his own glass on the desk. 

"I hope so," Radek whispered. "So you can see why Rodney's secret is safe in my care. I will never tell unless he allows. Frankly he might benefit from allowing the Change."

"How so?" Carson asked through gritted teeth. This part of drinking space mead always creeped him out, this feeling of liquidity. 

"I do not know how well the others understood but she could convey entire complex ideas, long arguments in single sound augmented by empathic thought."

"Yer Deep One?"

Radek gave him a look. "Yes her. If Rodney could do that it would save much time in form of arguments."

Carson snorted. "Ye try telling 'im tha'. I think he's determined to suppress the Change forever."

"What a waste."

"Aye."

*****

Rodney McKay was exiled to his quarters for 24 hours in order to unwind from his ordeal. It started as a simple release with orders to take it easy, then Sheppard found him in the lab ranting at his computer, his subordinates, and an experiment. Rodney had been frog-marched back to the infirmary as a necessary formality to get orders changed.

Hence, exile. He didn't have a guard at his door yet but the threat had been there.

Holy Mother, he was bored. Bored enough that he had to pretend he wasn't eager for distraction when his door chimed, that he had to wait a few seconds before opening his door so he wouldn't seem too expectant. "Zelenka?"

"I heard you were in exile and took pity," Radek explained. "May I come in?"

Rodney stepped aside and waited for Radek to come in. The door closed of its own accord as Rodney leaned on the edge of his desk. Radek looked around the room before deciding the edge of Rodney's bed looked like a comfortable perch. Silence stretched between them, uncomfortable and thick. "So you know," Rodney finally said, sawing through the silence with a rusted blade.

"I know," Radek admitted. "I meant what I said earlier. Your secret is safe in my care."

Rodney gazed at Radek in confusion tinged with fear. "How?" he asked. "How can you possibly be okay with this? I suspect the only reason Carson deals with me is the research he does on my... condition. No one else knows, no one living anyway. Not even my sister knows. And she's never going to know because Dad was far too removed from the bloodline or at least that's the excuse he used in front of me for her woeful humanity. Personally I think the simpler explanation is that Mom strayed because Dad was already gettin' the Look by the time Jeannie was born."

"Rodney!" Radek scolded in an attempt to get him to stop rambling.

"What?"

"I still meant it. I will keep your secret from whomever you so request. Is not big deal."

"How is this not a big deal?!" Rodney shrieked. "I'm not even human! I-I'm a monster, a creature, a-a-a Deep One!"

"I have worked with Deep One before," Radek admitted.

Rodney gaped, mouth opening and closing like a breathing fish. "You've worked with one of..." He shuddered.

"Was not as bad as you think," Radek pointed out. "Was much like working with you." He muttered something under his breath.

"What?"

"Is nothing."

"No, tell me."

"Was much like working with you. With some differences."

"Oh?" Rodney asked, curious.

"Yes," Radek said, reminiscing. "She was genius and difficult to work with. She demanded food in particular way and loved to play chess. She and I worked together in top secret super-science same as you and I do here."

Rodney snorted. "We don't do super-science." He paused. "Do we?"

"We attempt to merge alien technology with earth science and turn it into unlimited power, access to alternate dimensions, and travel through galaxies. Is super-science."

"Huh, I never thought of it that way."

"Yes. Well, she had problem thinking of what we did as advanced. Removing collateral damage from radiation of underwater nuclear explosion was play to her. Didn't matter technology used, all work she did was for her amusement. Like you sometimes."

"She sounds... different from the hybrids I met," Rodney allowed.

"And how many did you know?"

"My dad's friends, hybrids trying to run a chapter of the Esoteric Order in Toronto. They insisted that since his mother was Rosalyn Marsh he should lead them. It was..." Rodney trailed off, remembering. He shuddered at the memory of what they talked his father into, of what they made him watch, made him do...

"She was nothing like that," Radek insisted quickly. "She was fair and apathetic about people not concerning her and very beautiful."

"Beautiful?" Rodney's tone was incredulous but after a moment he could understand.

"She was so very beautiful."

"I guess I can see that," Rodney allowed slowly. "I hallucinated Sam as a Deep One. She was gorgeous, smooth skin and long legs and glistening scales..."

"And she was very affectionate," Radek continued. "Very affectionate, if you know meaning."

"Wait wait wait, you're telling me you and a Deep One..." Rodney trailed off, unwilling to actually say it. "That's disgusting."

"How can you of all people say that? Is how you exist."

"No it isn't," Rodney insisted. "I exist because of a long history of forced marriage under religious oppression coupled with the malicious concealment of true natures until it's too late. I don't think anyone in my family ever willingly bred with a Deep One."

"Is their loss," Radek said dismissively. "Humanity is well and good but is not all there is to partner. Is much more. Like purring. Can you purr? I always miss hearing her purr."

"I-I didn't know we could purr," Rodney said softly. "Dad never purred and I barely knew Gramma. Sam purred but I-I mean, she was a hallucination, I don't know if..."

"Yes, Rodney, Deep Ones can purr," Radek murmured. He took a few experimental steps toward Rodney, heartened when he didn't try and escape. "I can help you learn, if you want."

"I-I always liked cats," Rodney whispered. "Never made any sense as cats eat fish but when they purr..."

"Good purring can make you feel like center of universe," Radek agreed, coming closer. "Nothing else matters, only purr. You would do anything to make purr last forever."

Rodney nodded.

A few quiet steps and Radek was close enough to breath the air Rodney exhaled, could smell the old familiar scent of sea and living fish. He slowly lifted his hands and placed them on Rodney's shoulders. Rodney tensed a moment but slowly relaxed when all Radek did was breathe, deep breaths to capture his scent. Radek could feel the body in front of him relax, fancied he could smell it on his scent. He sighed deeply and leaned forward, resting his forehead on Rodney's.

"What are you doing?" Rodney whispered.

"Shh," Radek shushed. "Tell you what. If I don't make you purr then I will leave and we will never try this again."

"Okay," Rodney agreed. He leaned in and nuzzled Radek's face. His breath caught when Radek nuzzled back, stepped forward to pin him to the wall. He felt Radek's hands wander, firm and sure, never straying out of propriety. Rodney made a tiny sound before burying his face in Radek's neck.

Radek's scent was all around him. His own arms clutched the man close as skilled hands slipped under his shirt and ghosted up and down his spine. Something in the slide of fingertips up and down his scales triggered something primal in him, something that made him arch back in ecstasy and a low thrum fill the room.

Radek keened and gripped Rodney closer, never wanted to let go. He'd done it. He'd made Rodney purr.

Rodney pushed Radek away, just enough to look at him. He gazed at the human in wonder as though he were the one whose throat vibrated with sound. I'm purring, he mouthed, unwilling to say the words and possibly break the spell of sound. A decision was hastily made and Rodney manhandled Radek onto the bed and curled around him. If he was going to purr over someone then he was going to do it _right_.

*****

It was that nebulous time between late night and early morning where ideas flowed best on the edges of a caffeine high and the semi-euphoria of too little sleep. The labs were dark but not quiet as a sleepless Sheppard found two scientists bickering by the light of a couple of laptops and one dim desk lamp.

"You're supposed to be taking it easy," Sheppard remarked from his sprawl on the edge of the lab's open doorway. "Since when is this 'taking it easy'?"

"Rodney's ordeal was four days ago. Exile is over. Is taking it easy," Zelenka defended as he and Rodney took a breath between points in their tirades.

"You're just encouraging him," Sheppard accused, thinking the lights on.

Rodney blinked owlishly and hissed at the sudden stab of light to dark-adapted eyes. He gave the other two a brief look of annoyance and envy as neither of them seemed to have the same problem he did with photons. "You and your lights," he grumbled, hand rising of its own accord to shield his eyes from bright. "I'm fine. I'll be more fine if you stop with the lights."

Sheppard took pity and lowered the lights a bit, enough so that Rodney stopped hissing. And since when did Rodney hiss? "So Dr. Beckett tells me that thing with your eyes was nothing serious," he opened.

Rodney shrugged. "Capillary damage from the sudden decompression," he said, giving the practiced excuse. "I'm not supposed to strain them for awhile."

"And working in the dark by the light of a laptop isn't straining them?" Sheppard asked.

"I like the darkness," Rodney defended.

"Is not bad," Radek agreed.

Sheppard gave them both incredulous looks. McKay with Zelenka's backing was an unlikely if not impossible force to manipulate into doing something they didn't want to do but still he felt the need to warn them. "Don't let Beckett hear about this or he **will** blindfold you to make you take it easy," he said. "Remember that guy down in chemistry with the acid?"

Radek snorted. "Pirate Pete," he said. "He still wears eyepatch."

"Point taken," Rodney said. He turned the brightness on the laptops down to minimal and thought the lab's lights off. The lab plunged into a murk lit only by the dim glow of the two laptops. "There, much better."

"Now we cannot see," Radek pointed out. 

"You don't need to see to speak."

"To ani ty, ty bezpáteřní záminko pro imitaci béčkového hororu." (( _Neither do you, you spineless excuse for a second-rate horror story knockoff._ ))

"I'm going to pretend I don't know what you said."

"I think I'm going to leave," Sheppard said. 

"Then leave," Rodney said, waving at the door.

Sheppard slunk out of the room. He knew when things were about to get weird and for some reason his weirdness sense tingled in that lab. 

Two sets of eyes, one bespectacled and one shining green like those of a nocturnal predator, watched the Colonel not-quite-run from the room. "Did Carson really tell you to not strain your eyes?" Radek asked.

"No," Rodney admitted. "He theorized that maybe my nightvision might have improved and wanted me to try working in low-light conditions."

"And did it?"

Night-glowing green eyes turned toward bespectacled ones. "Not sure. Let's see." The two laptops went dark as their screens were closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Research:
> 
> Psychic Discoveries Behind the Iron Curtain by S Ostrander and L Schroeder (1984 edition)
> 
> Escape From Innsmouth by Chaosium, supplement for the Call of Cthulhu RPG
> 
> Deep Ones of Shellbourne, author unknown, adventure for the Call of Cthulhu RPG

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Wraithbait under a different name and a different title.


End file.
